The Sound of a Lightbulb
by the one a.m. writer
Summary: There's a joke that goes, "You sound like a lightbulb." "Why?" "You always go watt, watt, watt..." (what, what, what...) This is an AU. We begin in episode one, and quickly figure out that something is wrong with Dean. T for cursing! Yay! When is it anything else?


_This is an AU. We begin in episode one, and quickly figure out that something is wrong with Dean._

* * *

Sam was shocked to see his brother, to say the least.

Somehow, by telling Sam their father is missing, Dean dragged Sam away from Jess and his interview back into the fray, so to speak.

And then, when they came back and Jess burned on the ceiling, Sam didn't want to leave again.

Dean was still the same, obnoxious Dean that he hadn't seen in four years. He still played music too loudly as they drove too fast down the interstate freeway. He still didn't listen to Sam unless he chose.

"Dean!"

Silence.

"HEY! DEAN!"

Silence.

Sam smacked his brother on the shoulder. Dean looked up.

"What?" he demanded.

"I was going to _say,_ that was our exit your just passed!"

"Fuck."

He still swore too much and he still drank a lot and he still flirted with every pretty face he saw.

He felt like home more than any place Sam's stayed.

… **..**

Dean spoke too quietly sometimes.

That seems a little… un-Dean-like, to say the least, but it was true. Now, that's not to say this waas under normal circumstances. In a club where the music drowned out all conversation, Sam was yelling to be heard.

"SO, WHAT'S THIS GIRL'S DESCRIPTION?" Sam asked.

"Blonde," Dean said. "Tall. Nice legs."

Sam couldn't hear a word.

"SPEAK UP!" he shouted.

Dean shouted back powerfully. "BLONDE! TALL! NICE LEGS!"

"SERIOUSLY?" Sam said. "THAT'S HER DESCRIPTION?"

"That's what I got from the vic."

"IT'S LOUD IN HERE, DEAN! YOU HAVE TO SHOUT!"

"YES! THAT IS THE DESCRIPTION!" Dean responded, with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Honestly," Sam muttered, unable to hear himself but taking comfort in forming the words, "It's like you're _trying_ to be obnoxious."

"NO, I'M NOT!" Dean argued.

Sam gave his brother an odd look. Four years away, and suddenly he has super hearing?

… **..**

An endless round of bullets was firing. Sam ducked, wincing. The sharp noises were drumming into his ears.

Dean was sitting across from him, glancing stoically back toward the other room.

A really loud something went off before quiet fell for a moment. Sam flinched. Dean blinked.

"How is this not affecting you?" Sam asked, facing forward.

"What?" Dean asked. "It's loud in here, Sammy. Speak up."

Annoyed, Sam turned to face his brother. "You can hear me practically whisper in a crowded club, but you can't hear me when there's just background noise?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You were speaking into the wall or something. Anyway. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Go."

They ran, and fought, and won.

… **..**

A werewolf hunt in the woods. Dean crouched behind a log. Sam rounded a tree.

 _Eyes. There. Dean's left shoulder._

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, knowing he was definitely too far away. Why, why had Dean let him climb to the top of the valley alone? Why?

And Dean didn't look up. Was he thick? Maybe the sound was lost in the trees.

"DEAN! WEREWOLF! WEREWOLF!"

Dean glanced to Sam, and too late, behind him to the werewolf. "AAGH!" Dean shouted, and the sound echoed up to Sam.

Sam narrowed his eyes.

Dean was fighting. The werewolf was winning, but Dean had just got his silver knife up into his hand, and anyway, Sam was bounding down the slopes.

"BAD FIDO!" Sam shouted, throwing a rock at the wolf. Incredibly, it hit the thing in the shoulder.

The werewolf broke away from biting Dean for half a second, but it was enough for Dean to get his blade through his stomach.

Sam waited for the expected "Bad Fido? Reallly?" from Dean.

It never came.

Dean walked up to Sam, wincing and gingerly holding his arm. His shoulder looked pretty bad, but not terrible.

"Let's get you bandaged up," Sam said.

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks for your help."

"Shouting and throwing a stone?"

"I was being sarcastic, dumbass. Just gimme some first aid before I bleed out."

Sam turned and began to lead the way back to the car. "You're not gonna bleed out," he muttered.

They made it back to the car without incident. Sam got out the kit and started working on Dean's shoulder.

"Why couldn't you hear me back there?" Sam asked.

"You didn't yell loud enough," Dean said.

"Sure, I yelled loud enough," Sam said, turning back to his shoulder. "Because you yelled when the werewolf bit you, and I heard it crystal clear."

"You what?"

"Really?" Sam asked. "Is this your attempt at irony? I heard your anguished scream crystal clear."

"What?"

"I swear to God, Dean," Sam said. He stopped dressing the wound to stare at his brother. "You yelled. I heard you. I yelled, but you didn't hear me?"

"When the werewolf bit me, you mean?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. So if your yell made it to where I was, why didn't my yell make it to you?"

"We can't all have perfect hearing, bitch."

"Jerk. I don't."

"What?"

"I don't have perfect hearing. I only ever heard the beeps in my right ear."

"What the fuck are the beeps?"

"You know. You go into the nurse's office. You sit in the chair. They put headphones on. You listen to the beeps."

Sam looked for recognition in Dean's eyes, but he wasn't making eye contact. His eyes were lowered. On someone else, it would have looked submissive.

"Never done that."

"You- oh…"

Yeah, Dean as a child would have gotten out of every doctor's appointment he could.

"Anyway, point is, I don't have perfect hearing."

"And I have less not perfect hearing. Get over it," Dean said after a beat.

"That's not- whatever." Sam turned away. "You're fine, you baby. I'm putting this away." He began to clean up the first aid kit.

"What?" Dean asked.

 _"Really?"_

Sam whirled back to Dean, holding the first aid kit.

Dean's gaze flicked down.

"How's my shoulder?"

"You'll heal. You're fine."

"Oh. You should put that away." He gestured to the kit, and looked back to Sam, then down a tick.

"That's what I _just said_ I was going to do."

"Speak up, then," Dean said.

Sam frowned. He had been speaking up. Even if Dean's hearing wasn't perfect…

How bad was his hearing?

"I am speaking up," Sam mouthed.

"No, you're not. See, I can barely hear you right now," Dean said. Clearly bluffing, seeing as Sam _hadn't actually made noise._

"You're reading my lips," Sam accused silently.

"What? No."

"Yes, you are, Dean. I'm not actually making noise."

"You're not?" Dean asked, and immediately followed it with, "Fuck."

Sam glared.

"How bad is your hearing?" Sam demanded.

"I could hear _that_ ," Dean said.

"But not when I turn around."

"It's a little garbled," Dean admitted. "Look, I'll be fine. Don't worry. I can hunt."

"You couldn't hear me yell that a werewolf was going to eat your face."

"Nope," Dean admitted, "But I got out of it with barely a scratched shoulder."

" _This_ time."

"I can still hunt!" Dean protested.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

Dean said nothing.

"That you can hunt? Why are you saying that?"

"Because I can," Dean said finally. "I can hunt. Even with this hearing."

"You're probably halfway to legally deaf," Sam said.

"…I wouldn't go _that_ far." Which, of course, was Dean-speak for "Yeah, I'm actually further than halfway."

"What if I'm yelling or something?"

"I'll hear you. I will. I won't be a liability, trust me. I've been hunting on my own, anyway, so it's actually _more_ of a-"

"You've been hunting on your own?"

"Well, yeah. If I can't hear Dad-"

"He kicked you out."

Dean winced.

"Dad kicked you off of a hunt because you couldn't hear."

"He tried to kick me out of the life," Dean said quietly.

"Then _leave!_ Jesus, Dean, why didn't you take the chance?"

"Because I didn't want to! Anyway, he would call, over and over, and ask me to team up for one last case."

"Typical Dad."

"And I would go, and then he would ask how's life, and I wouldn't struggle to read _his_ lips because he said the same thing every time. 'All right. Now go back to normal life, Dean.'"

Sam gave Dean a long look.

Well, whether he liked it or not, they were in this life, and they were in it together.

"All right, listen," Sam said.

SAM'S RULES

1\. If I hit you, you turn and look at what I'm saying.

2\. If you missed something, I swear to God, Dean- especially something important- ask me to repeat it.

3\. If I yell while we're on a hunt, you look BEHIND you FIRST. Because there's probably a monster on your ass.

4\. If I am frantically waving, look BEHIND YOU. Then figure out how to hear me.

5\. I get to turn the music down if it's too loud.

6\. No, Dean. I get to turn the music down. It may be too late for your sorry ass, but I want to keep my not-perfect hearing, thank you very much.

7\. …No. This does not fall under your "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," rule.

8\. I reserve the right to add more rules.

* * *

 **Completely Unrelated my English teacher high-key ships my friend and I. My friend dropped in on my English class because his class wasn't doing anything, and I said something, and my teacher turns to him and says "as your girlfriend said..."**

 **At this point, we're just rolling with it.**

 **Author's advice write whatever you want. Go with the flow. Be silly. Also, check your goddamn tenses. **


End file.
